


Captive Doves/Roadside

by JokesterWrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Smut, Two Parter, dub con, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JokesterWrites/pseuds/JokesterWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1: Oswald has a little dove on the loose in his manor and he's more then willing to play a game of cat and mouse with her.</p><p>Part 2: In the morning, Gabe picks Oswald up while the manor is cleared out of anything undesirable.</p><p>Can be read separately or together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I had two separate prompts that kind of fit in together. If you're here for Oswald/Gabe the Babe, you can totally skip to part 2. Similarly, if you're not interested in Gabe, then you can just read part 1. 
> 
> As always you can find me on Tumblr, where I post a majority of my work at JokesterWrites
> 
> Cheers. - J

Oswald stared down at the steaming water that permeated the tea bag. Slowly tendrils of red, dark like blood, bloomed in the cup, and he studied them until he swirled the mug in his hands and the water turned crimson.

He had gone on a rampage through the lower floor. The kitchen was painted in blood, it darkened like rust and the corpses of his step siblings rotted in the corner. There was no fine china left, only chipped mugs that had barely survived his rage. The floor was littered with shards, sharp and broken against the scuffed leather of his shoes.

Oswald cleared his throat, glancing derisively at the door to the cellar before he took his mug and meandered throughout the house.

The wine cellar was pitifully empty. He had consumed it in it’s entirety, as though he could replace the blood in his veins with alcohol. It certainly felt like he could. His body burned, a fire trembling to burst aflame and perhaps from the ashes he would be reborn. Like some mythical bird of old. A fantasy really.

He lived it. The house was a living being. Full of ghosts that whispered in his ear. Oswald ignored them, preferring the conversations he had with Grace.

“How are you today, Grace?”

“What a lovely riesling, Grace.”

“Too bad we’re out of wine, Grace. We ought to send Sacha and Charles for some. Oh wait-they’re dead.”

He mocked her openly, as the buzz of flies settled on her skin. They took from her their meal. Much like Oswald had fed her her own children. It ought to be sickening. Sitting in this stale room with her. Instead it was cathartic. The conversation always one sided, Oswald airing his thoughts and opinions freely, with no rebuke from the corpse.  
Grace, charming Grace. She should have known better. Oswald sipped at the tea, viewing the room around him with new eyes as his mind began to clear. Plans swirling and forming, creating a game of intricate steps in his head.

There were so many things to do. Oswald chewed on his lip, eyeing Grace’s form with little interest, before he moved his attention onward. The pillows had been slashed, feathers covering everything in a downy softness.

Gabe would know what to do.

Oswald sighed, placing his tea down to lift the receiver, his fingers remembering every digit that made up Gabe’s number with familiarity over the dial. It whirled and spinned, bringing him closer to the sweet sound of his friend.

“Hello?”

For a brief moment Oswald closed his eyes to relish the soft baritone of Gabe. The question was repeated. At the second greeting, Oswald fluttered his lashes, reminding himself as to why he had called.

“Gabe. It’s Oswald Cobblepot.”

Silence deadened the line and for a second Oswald wondered if Gabe had hung up on him.

“It’s been a long time, boss. What do you want?”

He could feel Gabe hesitating, waiting. Much like a spurned lover. Oswald supposed he was right. There had been dalliances in the past and Oswald had not bothered to check in with Gabe upon his release from Arkham. Not as a friend, nor as a lover, and certainly not as a crime boss. He had not planned on returning to his previous distasteful life, but Strange’s therapy had broken and Oswald was gluing the pieces of his mind back together like a jigsaw puzzle that didn’t quite fit yet.

“To see how you were, old friend.” Oswald paused, the words turning over in his mouth, “I also need a clean up crew for something rather particular. I’m reclaiming Gotham… This city will be mine again. Come tomorrow if you would.” Oswald licked his lips, glancing up at the ceiling as he heard footsteps creak across the flooring. The house breathed, sighing with the breeze that whistled through the halls, rising flames billowing in the fireplace.

Gabe didn’t say anything for a long time. Just processed the words with quiet indulgence. His old boss sounded off, and yet it had been a relief to hear that nasally tone through the speaker. Slowly he replied, pacing his words carefully. “Alright. I’ll get some boys to come out. Where do you need them?” He took down the address, noting the lavish area it was in and wondering just what Cobblepot had done.

Oswald gently placed the receiver back on it’s cradle, his fingers caressing the old brass handle for a moment before he turned his attention away. His guest had awakened, a living breathing epitome of intrigue. A delicacy he simply couldn’t pass up. Not when she had walked in when his fingers dripped warm blood, his pupils blown dark as he relished in the death he had wrought.

She had fainted, collapsing in at the sight before her, the bodies carved and the sharp scent of death in the air. At the time, he had not known what else to do with her, other than to lock her form away in a spare bedroom. He had placed her on the bed, his reddened hand prints staining the pure white of her apron. She must have been the kitchen maid that Grace had hired. But now she was an angel, skin smooth and untouched. A doll to be kept safe from the itching feelings of death that his hands caused. Those sharp emotions had been sated that night, but now… now Oswald finished his tea, swishing the last remnants of it through his mouth and swallowing as he followed the creaks above him with his amused gaze.

Presently she was on the move, and Oswald felt a hunger stir in his belly, a tightening pool of arousal that stroked at his ego. The house was under lock and key, every window firmly sealed and the doors bolted, only the ancient skeleton keys heavy in his pocket would open them. Oswald paused in the kitchens, steady hands reaching for the power switch. It snapped down sharply, and the house darkened into a endless night. He grinned eerily at the sound of her startled scream. Only the illuminations from the candles would light their game tonight.

He ought to give her a name. Something to call her in hushed tones while he hunted within the echoing halls of the house. His pretty little dove. She moved quietly, but the house didn’t bother to hide her footsteps. Instead it amplified her breathing, those harsh panicky whispers of air stealing themselves from her lungs. She was on the upper floors. 

Oswald’s eyes glinted with dangerous interest.

His uneven gait marked the way, steps heavy as he limped up the stairs calling out to her. “Oh dove….do stay. I rather thought you and I would enjoy each others company. After all… I’m the only way you’re getting out.”

X.x

Frantically she forced a hand over her mouth at his words, terrified that her erratic breaths would give her away. She had ditched the shoes in favour of her stocking clad feet. They were practically soundless across the floor, so long as she was careful how she stepped. The house was old, and the floor tried to reveal every step she took. Trembling fingers closed the door on the linen closet, she waited on baited breath as his footsteps came closer, an impending beat of doom.

She was locked in here with a murderer. A sadist who was taking pleasure from her fear. His pace was always the same, that casual shuffle of feet as he wandered the mansion, obviously confident in her captivity. A shudder ran through her body as she caught his scent as he passed by her hiding place, a confident musk of cologne and the tang of iron blood.

There was a madness within him. His voice continued to hum and taunt her, even as it faded into a room. Nervously she pried open the door, slipping out and backing down the hallway, her worried eyes watching the candlelight flicker from one of the far rooms. Then she bumped into something - no someone- firm and unyielding.

Hands enclosed around her waist and mouth, and now she was awash in his presence.

Oswald buried his face in her neck, breathing her in deep. “Boo.” He said playfully, his nose running along the tense skin, following the curve of her neck to capture her earlobe in his teeth. He tugged lightly and she gasped behind his hand.

“My dove… you tremble so delightfully.” Oswald murmured, the hand around her waist tightening and pulling her ever so close. His hand dropped from her mouth, encircling around her beautiful neck and he felt how fast her pulse raced under his fingers as he tightened his grip. “You’d look so beautiful all bound just for me.”

She felt faint, the struggle within his grasp weakening as her air supply was lessened. Oswald licked along his lips, dragging her backwards with him as he released her into a bedroom. It was dark, slivers of moonlight peeking through curtains, curious as to the madness within. She stumbled away, falling to the ground and shuffling back until the hard wood of the footboard was pressed to her back. Those wide lovely eyes were on him as she drew in deep draws of air, watching as he locked the door and slipped the key ring away, it’s soft clinking providing a chorus to her gasps.

“Please… please don’t kill me. I don’t want to die.” She cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pleaded with him. As if she could plead the depravity from his soul. He looked the part, his hair sticking on end, a disjointed look barely visible in his bright eyes.

Oswald shook his head, as though he was clearing it. “Kill you? No.” he dropped clumsily to his knees before her, his hand reaching out and wiping away her tears. “No my dove. I won’t kill you. Not if you give me what I want.”

“Do you promise?” She nervously swiped her tongue over her lips, and Oswald followed it with his gaze, eyeing how it slipped back into her mouth and he shifted. “I promise.”

He drew a leather dog collar from his pocket, presenting it to her on a open palm. “Go on.” He encouraged, watching her tentative fingers shake as she reached for it. There was a quick cautious glance before she tilted her head forward to slide the collar around her neck, buckling it over the bruises that were beginning to form from his touches. 

Oswald traced the leather around her neck. “My pretty little… bitch.” He leaned into her, invading her space and overwhelming her with his presence.

“I want every single piece of you,” He whispered, voice low and nasally as his eyes fluttered closed. “I want your heaven and your oceans too.” Oswald ran his hands down her body, sliding up her thigh and pushing the black fabric of her dress higher. His hands were soft on her skin, unlike the harshness she had expected. A ghost like caress over her smooth flesh, feeling along the lace tops of her garters and subconsciously she opened her legs for him. Oswald hid a smirk as she relented to him and he felt her moistening heat   
beneath silken garments.

Good.

His hand pulled back, fingertips glistening and Oswald tilted his head at her, smirking openly now. “Not so afraid my dove?”

The pretty blush that spread across her cheeks only made him harder and Oswald pulled himself to his feet. “To the bed” He ordered.

Oswald pressed her down, encircling her wrists in his hand with sincere firmness and pulling them above her head. His weight engulfed her, crushing hard as he smothered her mouth in his kisses, hands stroking down her sides, following back up to cup and knead at her breasts. She was soft, oh gods she was soft, and Oswald wanted her so badly. To feel her screaming and writhing beneath him. A beautiful disaster with ruffled hair and wide eyes. Fear or pleasure, he would take what he could get.

The knife in his hands glinted, reflecting the flame of candles as he slipped it under her clothes. A gentle tearing sound filling the air, rising over her startled gasps

“Shhh… shhhh my dove.” Oswald spread her clothes, leaning back to admire the form he had on display now. Her chest heaved, breasts pert and nipples budding in the cool air. 

Oswald trailed the knife along her jawline, the cold steel caressing her flawless skin, following the valley of her breasts and pressing the flat blade against her nipples. She bit her lip, disrupting the moan that was trying to escape. He took his tie, wrapping it around her wrists and binding them to the headboard. She was truly helpless for him now. Oswald took his time disrobing, letting the tailor suit fall to the floor was careful precision as he bared himself to her.

The tension and energy in the room was thick. Oswald slipping between her legs, all he wanted to plunge into her, feel her velvety folds take him in to the hilt. But first he wanted to make her scream for it.

Rain began to fall, lashing against the windows and muting their sounds of pleasure. How she moved with him, letting him touch her roughly, thumb pressing against her clit as he pumped his fingers into her pooling heat. He’d bring her to the cusp of pleasure before pulling away, giving enough to leave her wanting. His hands harsh against her skin, leaving marks that darkened and blossomed into a mirage of disturbed beauty. Oswald was fascinated by it, how he could bring her screaming under his hand and whimpering for his pleasure until he gave it to her. She was a begging mess of desperation by the time he thrust into her, and Oswald stilled, his body adjusting to her tight pulsing heat.

Sweat bound their bodies, Oswald slamming into her and taking what was his. His pleasure surmounted her own, each roll of his hips bringing it closer until he shuddered and grunted, his orgasm ripping through him and spilling into her, his hand grabbing at her collar and tugging her up to sear her skin with a scorching kiss.

He pulled out, stretching and rolling his shoulders as he walked away, heading for the decanter that still held it’s precious amber liquid within. She was slumped on the bed, the evidence of their deeds smeared on her inner thighs. “Wait… aren’t you going to let me go?” She asked, wrists struggling in their bounds as she watched him pour his drink.

Oswald chuckled darkly, “I said I wouldn’t kill you. Not that I would let you go after I fucked you once.” His eyes wandered to the clock, it’s chime beginning to roll through the house. Midnight.

“We have until sunrise. Then our little game is over.”


	2. Roadside

The ride there was pleasant enough. The cool summer air of Gotham billowing past him as Gabe followed the cleaning crew on his motorcycle. The place itself was grand, a large circular driveway with gravel that crunched underfoot when Gabe dismounted. He pulled the helmet off, staring up at the house. It was dark, a gothic remnant of old money. 

Oswald waited at the door, hobbling down the steps. He gave sharp instructions to the crew, men hardened from crime that had a rough idea of what they were about to walk into.  
Oswald stopped short of Gabe, unsure of the damage he had done to their rather unusual friendship. He couldn’t deny his racing pulse at the sight of his friend, but lately everything in his body seemed to race and burn. An elevated excitement at feeling alive, rather than in the foggy cloud of his mind that had held his true self captive. Even now, he wasn’t sure what was himself, there were no boundaries anymore. He had done such things that bent his soul into unimaginable shapes that sunk their claws into him.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Gabe. It’s good to see you.”

It truly was. Gabe had more streaks of grey in his hair then Oswald remembered, but he still wore the familiar leather jacket, and half open shirt. The glint of the gold chain he wore peaked beneath. Oswald remembered how his fingers would toy with it, on late nights when he was drunk and selfish.

Oswald frowned. He was always selfish. Even now he just wanted Gabe to himself, to hear the latest news from his world. The one he had abandoned to vultures ready to pick apart the remains. It would take a great deal of work to stitch it back together. There would be many things to deal with. Already Oswald felt a headache oncoming.

Gabe had said something. Oswald wasn’t sure, he couldn’t concentrate. There was something itching at his skull, pushing at him. He needed to think about other things. Hugo’s therapy was crumbling, setting off underlying nightmares that tormented him. He thought about how Gabe had whispered such dirty things to him once, how he’d sucked the other man off, the only time he’d willingly bend to his knees.

Oswald shook his head, his cock twitching in his trousers. Now wasn’t a good time. He shouldn’t be so easily persuaded. Gabe was eyeing him with concern.

“Boss?”

His hands reached to rub at his eyes, “Let’s get out of here Gabe. The boys have a great deal of work to do to ready the manor.” Oswald stated sharply, his attention sliding past Gabe to the motorbike. He blinked in surprise.

“A motorcycle. Why didn’t you bring the car?”

Gabe shrugged, slipping his helmet back on and securing the strap under his chin before holding up the second helmet. “It was a nice day out, especially after last night’s rain.”  
Oswald felt rather small as Gabe plopped the second helmet, crunching down his gelled hair and he gave his henchman a sour look. “Is it really necessary?”

He didn’t reply. Simply threw his leg over the bike, and started the engine. Oswald grumbled to himself, his balance teetering as he held onto Gabe’s shoulder for leverage to climb on behind him. Yes. He felt very small indeed.

The ride was fast, Gabe handled the bike with efficiency and ease as they whipped along the bending roads that lead back into Gotham city. Oswald was exhilarated by it, his arms locked around Gabe’s rotund waist and his head buried into the leather jacket. Oswald shifted, adjusting himself awkwardly as his cock responded to the vibrations of the bike. 

Now was certainly not the opportune moment to pop a boner, he thought annoyed at his own self.

It felt good when he moved, rubbing against the seat of the bike, the vibrations making him twitch and whine with a sudden need. His grip on Gabe tightened, and the other man let one hand off the wheel to move Oswald’s hands lower.

He felt the outline of Gabe’s cock, and tugged at the button until it unfastened and he was able to slip his hand inside to stroke the thick length he remembered so well. This was certainly not how he expected this day to go, but he wasn’t complaining. Not yet anyhow.

Gabe’s steering was a bit more wobbling as Oswald jerked him off, fisting his cock was assured short pulls, working the head and the sensitive spot just on the underside. It was a strange sensation, the cool air breezing hard over his exposed cock, especially cold against the tip that was smeared with precum.

He suddenly pulled to the side of the road, spraying gravel and Oswald clenched him tightly enough for him to cum all over the front of his bike.

“Fuck…” Gabe was breathing heavily, his cock still twitchy and dribbling opaque fluids down his shaft. Oswald slipped off, dropping the helmet to the ground as he watched Gabe quickly stuff himself away and step off. His gaze dropped to Oswald’s own erection, pressing against his pants, and he roughly palmed Oswald causing the younger man to cry out and buck into his touch.

“Gabe.. please.” Oswald’s eyes were bright and Gabe could never say no to those beautifully shaped lips. He pulled at Oswald’s trousers, dropping them before he gripped those pale hips and lifted him to sit sideways on the bike. The look he received was one of confusion, until Gabe dropped to his knees and leaned in to lick at the bobbing head.

Oswald’s fingers sought purchase on the smooth leather of the seat as Gabe’s mouth enclosed over him. This is what he had missed. These strange euphoric moments that seemed to exist out of reality. A secret that he and Gabe alone possessed.

The mouth that worked him knew his cock well, and Oswald was frantic for release, the hum of the motor still buzzing beneath him and he was eagerly rocking his hips up for Gabe to take him deeper. His henchman dropped, throat relaxing and taking him to the hilt. Oswald gasped, and came, shooting spurts of thick cum down Gabe’s throat which were greedily sucked up and Gabe wiped his mouth with a smug smile.

“I missed this. You.” Oswald admitted out loud, balancing precariously on the bike, his drooping cock still on display, pants scrunched around his ankles with sock garters on display. Gabe nodded, “Me too boss. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also lightly ties into my Lessons series with Gabe/Oswald.


End file.
